Magic Should Not Be Used to Murder
by snuggle the muggle
Summary: A Dresden FilesSupernatural crossover. Nothing makes Harry angrier than seeing magic being used to cause harm. He meets the Winchester brothers and one of them is doomed to die, unless Harry finds a way to help. But black magic is hard to defeat.
1. A Professional Wizard?

I haven't ever written Dresden fanfiction before, but I did want to work on writing some and thought it would be fairly easy to cross his universe with Supernatural. This first chapter is pretty short as it is just sort of an introduction, but they will get longer. I tend to be rather wordy, in general. This is book universe Dresden Files only! That will become obvious in the next chapter.

Please let me know if you have any constructive criticism on writing Harry and if you enjoy the story. I will be trying to update every week or so, although I don't want to get locked into too specific of a time as I am extremely busy. The story will be about 50 chapters, I think. Enjoy, and let me know if you do!

Professional Wizard?

Sam thought to himself that if he had to choke down one more greasy hamburger this week, it would be the final straw. Dean loved them, the greasier the better, so this diner near the motel where they had been staying was the only place they had eaten for the last four nights. Today, Sam had ordered a grilled cheese sandwich but had only taken one bite before realizing that it was just as greasy as the burger. To distract himself from Dean's obvious enjoyment of his bacon cheeseburger and the blonde, rather curvy, waitress who had brought it to him, Sam had his nose pressed into the local paper.

The demon horde was spreading and he was quickly getting used to the key words that indicated it was time for them to be on the road again, hunting down the next pack of them. Newspaper reporters (for some reason) were hesitant to assign the blame for strange and unusual happenings to a band of demons newly-escaped from hell, so they used words like "unexplained" or "no one is quite sure" or "bizarre," usually followed by even less pleasant words like "murder" or "death" or "disappearance." These demons seemed to be moving in groups, so where there was one unexplained phenomenon, closely followed by yet another similarly strange event, Sam pointed Dean (and the Impala) toward that town, and off they went. That was what had brought them here to Rileyville, Illinois: five murders in a two-week span, in a town that usually had one every other year or so. They had come hoping to send the demons back to hell. Mission accomplished, in this case at least.

Sam skimmed quickly over the local news and moved on to general Illinois headlines, dominated primarily by the goings-on in Chicago, which only made sense. There were the usual government scandals and coverups, robberies, accidents, and wizard-troubles. Sam blinked, and reread the last headline. He hadn't been imagining it. "Professional 'wizard' questioned about bizarre murder." He glanced up at Dean, who had left the table and was now standing with one hip against the stained Formica counter, chatting happily with Donna, the curvy waitress. Dean raised his eyebrow and winked and Sam knew that meant he'd be spending a couple hours in the car after dinner while Dean made nice with the local girl. Maybe this town was big enough that their library stayed open in the evenings. He dropped his gaze back to the article and he could feel his eyebrows climbing higher and higher as he read.

The man apparently professed to be an actual wizard who could do magic and everything. And, according to the article, he worked part time for the Chicago Police Department. Interesting enough. But it was the fact that he blamed the "bizarre murder" on recently-rampaging demons that really caught Sam's attention. He wondered if this guy was the crackpot the reporter insinuated or if he was a hunter who just called himself a wizard because it was easier to explain. That didn't really make sense, though. When he looked up again, Dean was gone and so was the waitress. He glanced at his watch. He would give Dean two hours, and then they would head toward Chicago. He paid the bill for the greasy cheeseburger and inedible sandwich and didn't bother to leave a tip for the waitress. He supposed she wouldn't complain too much that Dean was taking care of that part.

There was a phone book in the corner by a dilapidated-looking pay phone. No libraries in the town at all. Damn. Usually, if he knew Dean would be "enjoying life while I've got it, Sammy," he'd stash a few of his research books in the car to keep him entertained. It was pitiful and he knew it. He let Dean get away with this kind of crap because he felt guilty about being the one alive now and for the foreseeable future, while Dean's death was pretty much an inevitability in seven more months. Dean had traded his own life for Sam's. How could Sam now insist that Dean not make him wait out in the car while he sampled the local flavor? He couldn't, right? So, he sat in the car and most of the time tried not to think about what was happening in the motel room. If he had books to read, that helped a lot. Tonight, he only had the local paper and the admittedly-interesting article about the supposed professional wizard. He didn't really think that would be enough to keep him distracted for long, though. He glanced around the diner, hoping to see some other potential reading material – but even the "Thrifty Nickel" want-ads stand was empty. Not that he wanted anything, but sometimes he could get a chuckle out of reading what was being sold, bartered, or given away.

Abandoning all hope of that diversion, he stepped out into the muggy sunset-colored evening. He was halfway to the motel when he felt the first drop of rain and pretty-thoroughly soaked by the time he reached the Impala and grabbed for the door handle. It was locked. Hell.


	2. Return to Chicago

Thanks for the reviews as well as the favorite-story and author-alerts on the last chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this one as well. Just a reminder for you Dresden fans out there that this is purely book universe Harry, so if you haven't actually read the books, some details will seem different to you. Enjoy this installment!

**Return to Chicago**

Curvy-waitress Donna emerged from the motel room looking flushed about 45 minutes after Sam found a semi-dry patch of cement to sit on and wait. That was even more pitiful than waiting in the car, he thought; but since the alternative was to knock on the door or worse just open it, he preferred to sit. He had interrupted Dean before and the results were never good. So, even though he was shivering and his butt was very numb from sitting in wet jeans on cold cement, waiting was the best option.

She didn't even glance his direction but she squinted at her watch and examined her fingernails as she waited. A moment later, a car pulled up and she ran quickly through the rain to climb inside. Sam waited until the car was out of sight before he struggled to his more-numb-than-his-butt feet and walked over to the door. He opened it with a bang and wasn't at all surprised to see Dean sprawled under the covers, snoring softly. Just because he could, Sam peeled off his wet shirt and threw it across the room to land on Dean's naked back.

Sam found out pretty quickly that Dean could still whip his butt.

Dean did apologize for forgetting to unlock the Impala and also promised to make Sam a copy of the key to the car door (that wouldn't actually start the car) and Sam was hardly in a position to argue since Dean had him in a headlock and was currently giving him the world's worst noogie.

Sam indulged in a hot shower while Dean packed up their few clothes, leaving Sam's wet things on top of the duffel bags to dry, except for one sock he conveniently "forgot" about, making sure it was packed securely in the middle of all Sam's dry underwear.

Dean was not all that keen about heading to Chicago, which Sam could understand, because he wasn't that keen on it himself. The last time they were there things had gotten nasty and the memories of Dad seeing them there and everything just made it worse. Meg and her black altar thingy still gave Sam nightmares every once in a while, although he certainly would never admit that to anyone else. All in all, Chicago had been a disaster two years ago and there certainly wasn't much to lead him to think this time would be any different. However, they both knew the most important thing was to get control of these demons and if this supposed wizard knew something about the demons, then they needed to talk to him, Chicago or no Chicago. And the quicker they could find him, the better.

The drive into the city took about five hours and it took an hour and a half once they got there to locate the area of the city where the wizard's office was and that was only after they finally looked in the phone book and realized he even had an office. By then, it was about 3:00 in the morning and they were both exhausted. Dean was playing some loud music to keep himself awake and when they pulled up in front of the seedy-looking building, Sam reached over and turned it off. "Let's sleep. He probably doesn't open until 9 or so, and that's assuming he's not currently rotting in jail for murdering those people." He looked down at the ad Dean had ripped out of the phonebook. "He doesn't actually give office hours, though."

Dean scoffed. "He says he's a wizard, Sam. Maybe he just knows someone needs him and shows up."

"You mean like Batman with the secret Bat Signal flashing across the sky?"

"Could happen. I'm just saying . . . ."

"Right."

When the office still wasn't open by 10, it was mutually decided that waiting at the office was an exercise in futility and they had to find some other way to contact him. Sam read the newspaper article again and then flicked his fingers against it. "Oh, I'm an idiot sometimes. He works part-time for the police. I bet if we go into their offices, someone can tell us how to get ahold of him. They must be able to get him when they need him for a case or something."

"Maybe they're the ones who can send the secret Bat Signal!"

"Give it up, Dean!" But Sam stopped arguing when Dean put the car into drive and slid easily into the busy street traffic. Finding police headquarters wasn't really too difficult, fortunately, as neither of the brothers liked driving in big cities very much but sometimes it couldn't be avoided. Of course, going into a police station was a scary experience for both of them, too, but it had to be done. They both had outstanding warrants out for their arrests, but fortunately they hadn't ever been arrested in Chicago and so the chance of their faces being plastered on the walls was rather remote. "I'll do the talking, okay? I've got a story in mind." Sam had been thinking about it since the night before, when he had read the article through the first time. He thought he could probably pull it off with the cops, as long as they didn't ask too many questions.

"Go for it," Dean opened the door for him and shoved him through with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. "I'll back you up all the way."

"Thanks. I think." He approached a desk where a rather gruff-looking cop sat drinking a cup of coffee behind a desk that looked too short for him. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a Harry Dresden, who I was told sometimes works as a consultant for the police department. Would you happen to know which department he works with and who I can speak to?" The cop raised his eyebrow and his expression didn't change at all.

"Why would you want to talk to him?"

"Well, okay this is embarrassing, but, we heard that he's really good at banishing ghosts and that sort of thing, and we, uh, have one in our apartment that's just totally messing with the feng shui of the place. We thought maybe Mr. Dresden could help us." The cop got a disgusted look on his face as he gave both Sam and Dean the evil eye. Dean whacked Sam again between the shoulder blades, quite a bit harder than was really necessary.

"I thought that was personal, Sammy! You shouldn't tell people that sort of thing."

"Well, he asked." Sam smiled sweetly at Dean, who made a fist, low by his leg where the cop couldn't see it. Sam turned back to the policeman and smiled even more sweetly at him. He caved, as Sam had hoped he would.

"I don't guess anyone knows where he is right at the moment. He's in a bit of trouble, and I can tell you, uh, boy, that he is not going to be wanting to do any fang-shooey sort of stuff with your apartment. He's under suspicion for murder. He works with Murphy, though, so I guess I'll let you find out for yourself. Go straight back there to SI. They're the nut cases that work with that crackpot."

"A cop named Murphy?" Dean asked as they walked away from the desk. "Is this just one big cliche, or what? I bet he's a fat red-haired guy with his belt hitched tight below a huge stomach. And remind me later, Sam, to kill you slowly later for the story you told to get us back here."

"I'll do my best to remember, Dean." He hoped the sarcasm in his voice was obvious. They both stopped short as they came to the office door and its shiny gold nameplate: Karrin Murphy. "Not a fat guy."

"Oh, shut up, Sam." They could hear someone who they assumed to be Murphy screaming loudly behind the door. Since no one was screaming back, Sam figured she was on the phone and felt sorry for whoever's eardrum she was puncturing. Then, he turned slightly so he could hear better and grinned at Dean when he did the same. He loved it when they both had the same thought like that.

"I don't care what he said. You tell Dresden that I want him here in my office in an hour! I know he didn't kill that woman, but the longer he stays hidden, the guiltier he looks to everyone else!" There was a short pause. "That's crazy even for him!" A longer pause but her voice was still plenty loud when she answered. "Obviously he doesn't want to be arrested! I don't want to arrest him either! Tell him one hour, no longer, or I personally will high-tail it over to his house and drag his sorry butt in here, wizard or no! And he knows I will, too!" The phone slammed down on the receiver and there was another sound of something heavy hitting the wall.

Sam mouthed "Wow!" at Dean and then knocked quietly on the door. This Murphy had a temper, obviously. No use making her even more aggravated by being rude.


	3. Meeting the Wizard

Thanks for the great reviews, people! I love reading them and I am trying to respond to them as well. I appreciate everyone who has set me up on author alert or story alert and also as favorite author/story. It means a lot to authors to know their stuff is being read and enjoyed. Just a reminder that this story is posted twice, under two different story titles (fandom-appropriate) as it is a crossover, so if you get two notices but the chapters look the same, that's because they are!! Thanks again! Now, on to a bit of Murphy/Winchester interaction . . . .

**Meeting the Wizard**

After a minute, the door opened and Sam blinked in surprise. This Murphy was tiny, practically child-size really. And pretty, very pretty. And blonde. That being the case, he wasn't surprised when two seconds later, Dean stepped in front of him.

"Hello, Karrin, isn't it?"

She was already scowling and her scowl deepened. "You can call me Sergeant Murphy, or just Sergeant."

"Sorry," Sam muttered and Dean said the same. She stepped back from the door to let them in and tried with visible effort to relax. Sam knew that wouldn't last once they started talking, but the questions had to be asked.

"What can I do for you?" She stepped behind her desk and straightened the objects on it almost compulsively. Sam noticed that a rather heavy-looking statue had made a hole in the wall closest to her chair and it was still lying on the floor.

"We're looking for a Harry Dresden who works part-time for the department. We were told you were the one to contact." Dean was using his smoothest voice, his most polite and cultured persona, but Sam could tell by the tensing of Murphy's shoulders that it wouldn't make any difference. Her head snapped up and she impaled both of them on a sharp glare.

"What do you want with Dresden?"

"Well, uh, we . . . ." Dean's voice trailed off, unsure of what story they were going to tell, but Sam knew that there was no use even trying to get anything past her. She would see right through whatever lie they told her. Might as well go with the truth, or at least part of it.

"We read a newspaper article that said he was hunting demons. It interested us. We thought we'd come see what that was all about." Her blue-eyed gaze met his full on and when he didn't flinch, she looked vaguely surprised but the worry lines around her mouth relaxed a little bit. Sam realized that whatever she was looking for in his eyes and hadn't found somehow made her feel a little better.

"Why would you be interested in demons? You aren't demons, are you?"

Sam laughed, completely caught off guard by her question. "Uh, no."

Dean felt the need, apparently, to get into her good graces, so he laughed heartily. "No, just two good-old American boys. That's us."

"You're not magical." This was said in such a matter-of-fact way that Sam noticed. It was not a question, but a statement. Dean, however, answered it as if she were asking.

"Nope. No such thing as magic, uh, Sergeant."

"Right." She drummed her fingers on the desk then settled down in her chair. "No magic." She looked them over carefully and Sam felt like squirming but forced himself to stand still. "Neither of you is a Knight or anything?" Again, Dean laughed but Sam just raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what she was talking about, but she was serious. "You're not demons, or faeries, or uh, vampires? Because honestly you could probably pass." She flushed and Sam met her gaze squarely again. Whatever she was saying or wasn't saying made perfect sense to her and if they wanted her help, they had to be completely honest. If she was used to dealing with those sorts of creatures, then telling her what they actually did probably wouldn't throw her that much.

"None of those things. Nor are we ghosts. We're just humans. But we're demon hunters ourselves, Sergeant. And if this Dresden is hunting demons, then we want to see what he knows and tell him what we know and see if it can be a mutually beneficial meeting."

"Demon hunters?" She laughed at that and Dean punched him on the arm.

"Now she thinks we're crazy! Why'd you go and say that?"

Sam didn't answer but waited for a minute until Murphy shook her head and looked at him again. "You two . . . hunt demons? Without magic? That's actually pretty funny." She stood up, crossed her office and opened the door, pointedly waiting for them to leave. "Pretty good lines up to that point, I've got to give you credit for that. However, I think Dresden's got enough on his plate at the moment without siccing a fan club on him, so go back to whatever rock it is you crawled out from under. I'll be sure not to tell him you stopped by."

"We're not a fan club . . . ." Sam started to explain but her phone rang and she grabbed it off the desk with a violence that made him realize it was probably a waste of time arguing with her. "Come on, Dean. I don't think there's any point trying to convince her." Dean nodded in agreement and they walked out the door and shut it behind them, but not before they heard her raise her voice again to whomever was on the other end of the phone.

"She really does have a temper!" Dean said as they stared in amazement at the closed door as it practically rattled on its hinges. It was incredible to think that much anger could come out of such a small body. Such a small, attractive body, and Sam knew that Dean had been very aware of exactly how attractive every minute they were in there. She was cute and Sam didn't think that he was imagining the fact that Sergeant Karrin Murphy had spent more time looking at him than at Dean. He didn't mention that, though. Why cause problems?

By unspoken agreement they exited the police station and went out to the Impala, leaning against it while they thought about what they should do next. "Is it just me, Sammy, or was that one of the more surreal conversations you've ever had in your life?"

"It was pretty surreal."

"She obviously believes this Dresden does magic."

"Yep." Sam was thinking as hard as he could about what exactly Karrin Murphy had said in the office and what had made her dismiss them so quickly. "She would have accepted the demon hunting bit-"

"She laughed us out of there!"

"Only because we said we didn't do it with magic. This Dresden guy's got her pretty convinced. But she knows about demons, that's for sure. She didn't even blink when we mentioned them."

"Maybe you're right, Sammy. But, we still need to find Dresden."

"I think if we're just patient . . . he'll either turn up or we can follow her. She did threaten to haul him in if he wasn't here in an hour, and that was twenty minutes ago." Sam opened his door and slid into the seat, leaving it open so he could talk to Dean while he scribbled some notes. "I need to figure out what else she was talking about in there."

"Why? It was all . . . gibberish, wasn't it? And what did she mean about us passing? Passing as what?"

"I don't know what she meant. That's why I need to figure it out."

"Well, you can't go to the library now, for hell's sake. If we're hoping to catch Dresden if and when he shows up, we both have to stay right here."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Come out of the dark ages and hand me the laptop."

"No. One of us needs to be paying attention every minute and I, at least, am starving. There's a diner over there and hopefully they'll have decent food. I'll go get us something. You stay here and pay attention. No internet. I know how you get."

"Fine." Sam's stomach growled right on cue. "I'll pay attention until you get back. Then you get to-" He broke off as a sudden thought hit him. "Wait, how am I going to know that it's him? I doubt he'll show up carrying a broom and wearing a pointy wizard's hat."

"Instinct. Just go with your gut –" Now it was Dean's turn to break off suddenly. "What the hell is that thing?"

Sam turned his head to see what Dean was looking at and laughed. "It's a car, Dean."

"You might call it a car, but I certainly wouldn't." The car did look like it was on its last legs, er, wheels. It was barely wheezing as it pulled into the parking lot and every piece on the thing was a different color. The back window was shattered, one of the side windows was missing completely, and the engine compartment (which was located in the back since this had once been an old Volkswagen Beetle) was held together with what looked to Sam like a bungee cord.

"Not everyone can afford a nice car, Dean," but his brother didn't answer. When the car stopped and the door opened, a very tall man stepped out. Very tall. He had Sam beat by at least two inches, maybe more like three, which meant he was probably at least a half foot taller than Dean and neither of them could be considered short. He had very dark hair and even though it was plenty warm outside in the middle of the day, he was wearing a long leather coat. He glanced over at the two of them, and Sam suddenly knew. "Dean, that's him!" he stage-whispered.

Dean bent down and looked in the window. "What?"

"That's the wizard!"

Dean stood back up, examined the man who had reached back into his car and grabbed a long staff out of the back seat, and bent back down to talk to Sam. "Wizarding obviously doesn't pay well. But I think you're right. And he is a nut. I can tell from here." He pushed away from the car and strode toward the so-called wizard. "You Harry Dresden?"

Dresden stopped but didn't turn around. Sam was halfway out of his seat when he heard his answer. "Who's asking?" The man's voice was pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent of power in it that sent chills down Sam's spine. Whatever he said he was, Sam wouldn't find it that hard to believe him.

"My name's Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam. We wanted to talk to you about demons."

"Demons?" The man turned, looking briefly at both of them and their car behind them. Sam noticed that he didn't actually meet their eyes.

"Yeah, specifically about killing them. Thought maybe we could-" Dean was interrupted by a loud screech of brakes as a police car squealed up next to Dresden and the window rolled down to show Sergeant Murphy driving.

"Dresden! You're lucky you came in under your own power. I really wouldn't have wanted to have to go get you!" Sam chuckled under his breath. The idea of that tiny little woman dragging that huge man into the police station against his will was absolutely ludicrous. She turned her glare onto both of them, though, and Sam stopped walking. Even Dean backed up a step. "And you two! I thought I told you to go back home!"


	4. Conversations

**Conversations**

Sam was too far away to hear what Dresden said to Sergeant Murphy, but her face relaxed a bit and Dean stepped a little closer to the police car. Sam decided neither he nor Dean were going to get shot, immediately anyway, and walked over to join the little group.

" . . . understand it, really, but I've got someone doing some research and hopefully in a day or two we'll have some answers. What do I need to do to get the Department off my tail for this latest mess?"

"Come in and answer some questions." She looked at him and smiled and Sam grunted in surprise at how young it made her look. "I promise, I won't arrest you. And we can make it quick, 'kay?"

"Then maybe we can grab some lunch?"

"Sounds good. You buyin'?" The dialogue was relaxed, their attitudes casual, and Sam had to admit he was curious at exactly how friendly they were, when Dresden wasn't suspected of murder, of course.

Sam thought that Dean was getting ready to spontaneously combust in frustration at being ignored by the Sergeant and the "nutcase" but before any sparks actually started flying, Dresden turned toward him and then glanced quickly up at Sam. "I'd like to talk to you boys, too. I'll even spring for lunch assuming you know something about my demons. The only catch is that you'll have to wait until Chicago's finest has her crack at me. And be available in case she slams me in the pokey after all. Someone's got to break me out."

Murphy laughed and there was an answering crinkle in the Wizard's face. He winked at Sergeant Murphy and then said, "Murph, do you have any objection to my talking to them for a few minutes before I come in to be questioned?"

"Guess not. Make it quick, though. I'm hungry. You should know they're just some fans, Harry. I already talked to them and their story didn't make any sense." She looked at Dean again, appraisingly, and then at Sam. "Harry's a good friend of mine. If you upset him, you'll answer to me." She rolled up the window and sped off the direction she had come from before either of them had even opened their mouths to answer.

The Wizard turned to face them both. "Dean and Sam, right? And the last name was...?"

"Winchester. Like the rifle." Dresden's eyes were lively, moving over them both quickly, but Sam got the idea that they had been appraised and found acceptable, at some level at least. His face was cragged, thin, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He leaned rather heavily on his staff and Sam thought he looked exhausted. He had to admit he was confused. He had seemed animated enough with the Sergeant, but now it looked like nothing but pure stubbornness was keeping him standing.

"Okay. Um, maybe we should sit down somewhere?" Sam suggested. He glanced around the parking lot. There weren't any convenient benches or even a fountain they could lean their butts against. It seemed that the fine officers of the Chicago Police Department didn't want to encourage loitering on their property. They wound up standing for a few minutes under one of the shade trees on the side of the building with Dresden leaning against a small brick wall that hid an air-conditioning unit.

"Now, what were you going to say before we were interrupted?" The man seemed slightly on-edge, which combined with his exhaustion, just made Sam tired to watch him. The wizard's gaze darted around the parking lot in a definite pattern and it took Sam a few minutes to realize that he was looking for danger, monitoring their surroundings as they stood there.

Dean filled Dresden in on the reason they had originally come to see him. Sam was happy they were being honest with the man. He had a feeling Dresden would know if they were lying. "We came to talk to you about demons. We read a newspaper article that quoted you as saying that you had noticed a lot of demon activity lately. Does that sound right?"

"Really? A newspaper article about me?" The man looked genuinely surprised. When Sam told him which paper it was in, he looked even more surprised. ''Interesting. I had no idea. That'll bring the kooks out of the woodwork. Er, uh, sorry, present company excepted, I'm sure. But, you're right, though. There's something going on and I can't figure out exactly what or why, but it's sure causing me grief. It's been kind of bad for a while, but it seems to be getting a lot worse in the last few days."

Sam spoke up. He wanted to make sure they were talking about the same demons. I mean, demons are demons, but they were particularly trying to take care of the mess they had sort of started and much as it was obvious this guy needed some help, he didn't want Dean and him to waste time dwiddling about when it wasn't their issue. "So did these increased problems start about five months or so ago?" Dresden looked quickly at him again (it was strange that someone looked down at him – he was used to being the tallest one in the room) and Sam noted again that he didn't quite meet his eyes. There was something rather strange about that but it wasn't the time to bring it up.

"I suppose that's about right. It's like all hell broke loose or something. Why?"

"It did. Sort of." Dean sighed and looked at Sam. "We probably don't have time to go into everything right now. Let's just say that we hunt demons. Professionally, I mean. And it looks to us like you've got a demon infestation that could really use some good exterminators. So, here we are."

To say that Dresden looked surprised wouldn't have quite described the expression on his face. It was surprise, but it was also- Well, Sam wasn't exactly sure what. "You...hunt demons? Do people pay you for this hunting?"

"No." Dean's brows furrowed and he looked a little too pointedly at the multi-colored vehicle in the parking lot. "But I'd guess you don't make much either."

"I'm just wondering how you manage to con people out of money then, because there is no way that either of you could possibly hunt demons. You don't have enough magic between the two of you to light a candle." He looked at Sam again. "Now, there's something peculiar about you that I can't quite identify. But it's not magic." He looked at Dean. "And you're about as magically inclined as the bricks in this wall. So, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"You're right – We're not magic. Because there's no such thing. We hunt demons the old-fashioned way. The honest way. Rock salt, fire, cold iron, circles, exorcism. The usual. Sam here figures out to lure them, trap them, kill them, and then we do it. No mumbo jumbo and fake wands for us, thanks." Dean crossed his arms and looked over at Dresden, who had stiffened up during his rant.

"Hunting demons without magic. Interesting thought." He looked at their car. "By the way, I could afford a new car pretty easily. I just like that one." Then he turned. "I'm going in to talk to Murph. I'm willing to consider the possibility that you might be telling me the truth. What you've said does make sense and I'm man enough to admit that just because it's not the way I do things doesn't mean it's impossible. Come to lunch with Murphy and me and we'll talk some more about these particular demons and how you might be able to help." He walked a few steps, leaning rather more heavily on his staff than Sam suspected was normal. He turned back to them. "I actually wasn't kidding about your maybe springing me from jail. I can usually do it myself, you know, with the old mumbo jumbo, but I'm completely drained. If I'm not out in an hour, could you come in and see what's going on?" He didn't wait for an answer, but just went inside.

Sam turned to look at Dean, who was shaking his head, looking very confused. "That was another strange conversation. Not quite as surreal as the one with THE SERGEANT, but still pretty strange." Sam laughed at the way Dean referred to Murphy, like her name was all capitalized. Seemed fair enough, since she had insisted that they call her by her rank.

They walked back over to the Impala and Dean gave another sneer to the little blue car parked nearby. "So, Sammy, whatdja think?"

"Not sure, really. She believes he's magic."

"Yeah. He's got her duped real well. It's obvious something's going on between them, eh?"

"Maybe. Or they're good friends."

"Hmmm. I don't think you could be just good friends with a girl that good looking. Unless you're gay." He looked at Sam and smiled slyly. "We could pretend to-"

"No. Absolutely not. Dean, we are not here in town to sleep with the police sergeant."

"What's this 'we' bit? I don't think I invited you to join us."

"Maybe not. But she looks at me more often than she looks at you."

"Probably wondering what's wrong with you."

"Or maybe she likes tall men." That shut Dean up and he just hit Sam on the arm before opening up the car door and sliding inside. Sam grabbed the laptop out of the trunk and slid in next to him. As he suspected, there was enough wireless signal leaking from the police station to give him a good access. As he also suspected, it was encrypted. It took the computer exactly 55 seconds to break the encryption and Sam smiled quietly as he logged onto his favorite search engine, punching in a few things Sergeant Murphy had said when they were in the office and waiting for the list to come on the screen.

"Dean, can I ask you a question? One that you'll honestly think about before you answer?"

"No, Sammy. I'm honestly not gay," Dean joked, but he stopped smiling when he saw Sam's expression. "Sorry. Sure. Ask away."

"You and I have seen some pretty freaky stuff in our days together." Dean nodded and Sam continued. "I mean, we light a fire on some old bones in a cemetery and 10 miles away a ghost explodes into flames. We've seen demons entering and exiting people through their mouths. We've seen an eight-year-old spirit acting out tortured fairy tales while her eighteen-year-old comatose body is stuck back in a hospital bed being entertained by her doctor-father, who didn't-"

"I thought this was a question, not a recap of This Is Your Life!"

"Sorry. Just saying...How is all that different from magic? Really? I mean if the guy says he can do magic, how can we say he's a liar? What's the difference between what we do and what he does?"


	5. Admitting It

AN: Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up. I had a crazy week. This chapter has a few spoilers for the finale of Season 2 of Supernatural although I don't think it would ruin the story for you if you haven't seen it. Enjoy!

**Admitting It**

Dean looked extremely displeased, but Sam ignored his bad mood and checked the computer again. The search engine had failed him, but he honestly wasn't surprised. The only real thing he had been able to punch in was "knights and demons" because nothing else the sergeant had said had made any sense in his opinion. He had tried "fairies" and also "passing as vampires" but fairies was too vague of a term with about a million hits and passing as vampires had exactly none. "Knights and demons" had two web pages listed as possibilities but Sam could tell instantly that these were game sites manned by teenagers looking for others to play role-playing games. He shut down the internet access and closed the computer again before looking at Dean, who had been remarkably silent over the five minutes or so Sam was studying the results.

"Well?"

"It just is different, okay? I don't know the words – you know I don't." It bothered Dean very rarely that his formal education had been so sparse but Sam could tell this was one of those times.

"All right. Don't get grumpy. I'm just saying that maybe we should approach this whole lunch thing with an open mind."

"Fine. Open mind. Got it. But if he starts waving his wand or cooking anything in a cauldron, I'm not eating."

"We're going out to eat, Dean. Remember, they were teasing about who was going to buy-"

"Kidding, Sammy, kidding. Lighten up a bit."

Sam thought that was pretty rich. Dean was the one acting like he had something stuck up his behind and had since they had arrived, and now he was lecturing him on relaxing? However, in the hopes of preserving some semblance of calm, he bit his lip and stared out the window for a bit, hoping that this Dresden guy hurried. He was extremely hungry now that Dean had pointed out how long it had been since their last meal, and since he had passed on eating that greasy grilled cheese sandwich at dinner, for him it had been even longer. Fortunately, only about another ten minutes had passed in the strained silence of the car before he appeared and Sam walked over to him.

"How'd it go?"

Dresden blinked vaguely, and Sam had the sense that he had interrupted his thinking about something fairly tricky. "It went okay, I guess. I didn't get arrested, which is always a good sign. Karrin is driving her own car to lunch because she hates driving around with me in the Blue Beetle there, but I can't drive in the police car with her. You probably want to take your own, too. That way, if you decide I'm completely cracked, you're not dependent on me for transportation."

"That's fine. There's no way I could fold myself into that thing, anyway. I don't know how you do it."

Dresden laughed. "It's not easy, I admit. But I'm used to it now. And of course the fact that all of the padding has been removed from the seats, the door, and the roof gives me more room, so that's helpful."

Sam could feel his eyes widen and tried to school his face into a more neutral setting. "You did that on purpose?"

"Of course not. I was just . . . . Oh, never mind. Most people never do figure out when I'm joking around with them. I'll try not-"

"Sorry. I'm just not quite sure what to expect from you, I guess."

"Understandable." Dresden glanced at the Impala, where Dean was still sitting behind the steering wheel. "He doesn't trust me at all."

"He's, well, he's got a lot going on right now. Sorry if he's been rude."

"You don't have to apologize for him. It's fine. I'm used to skeptics. Hopefully, we can at least come to some sort of an understanding over some really great food."

"Yeah, that would be good." Sam didn't have a chance to elaborate further, because right then the Sergeant came tearing around the corner in her car.

"Let's go, Dresden. I'm hungry. Are we heading to Mac's?"

A few minutes later, a strange caravan left the parking lot. Dresden was in the lead with the police car close behind and Dean had grudgingly agreed to bring up the rear. They didn't go far, but it was far enough that Sam and Dean were able to have yet another argument. Sam was doing his best to be patient with Dean, but both of their nerves had been stretched to the limits over the last few weeks, and when they were both as tired and hungry as they were right now, it didn't take much to get them going at each other.

The little pub was fairly crowded and to say it had atmosphere would be an understatement. It actually reminded Sam a little bit of a hunters' bar – everyone here seemed to be the same sort of rough-around-the-edges type as they were used to seeing when they met other hunters. There was something kind of off about the arrangement of the tables in the room, but Sam didn't even take time to wonder about that because the heavenly smell of cooking food drove almost every other thought from his head. He wasn't exactly sure what smelled so good, but he knew he wanted some of it. Sergeant Murphy sniffed appreciatively as she entered behind them. "Mac makes the best steaks I've ever had. I highly recommend them. And the beer is great, too." She wrinkled her nose and sniffed again. "Of course, I can't have any since I'm still on duty. Too bad." They found a table against one of the walls and settled in while Harry nodded companionably to a few people who spoke to him. Sam assumed it was Mac himself who came over and took their orders, although there was precious little conversation. There were a few grunts on Mac's end, a nod or two from Dresden, and all seemed to be understood.

While they waited for their food, the four of them didn't speak much. Sergeant Murphy's cell phone rang and she looked nervously at Dresden before she got up and went outside. The three of them left at the table looked at each other and Dean cleared his throat. "She seems, uh, nice."

Dresden smiled and Sam wasn't sure what it meant. The man played his cards close to his vest, that was certain. "Yeah, unless she wants to hurt you. She can do that pretty effectively if she puts her mind to it." After that, they were silent again. Sam looked around the room, assessing the different individuals seated at the different tables without appearing to do so. "This is sort of a practitioners' hang-out," Dresden said after another minute. "It's neutral ground, so people of different stripes feel pretty comfortable coming here."

"Practitioners?" Dean asked before Sam had a chance to do so.

"Mumbo-jumbo. There's quite a few of us around, you see." He winked and Dean actually laughed. "I'm just the only one that advertises." Before anyone had a chance to say anything else, Murphy came back into the bar and she was followed to the table by Mac, bearing his offering to the Food Gods. Sam took one bite of his perfectly-cooked steak, and tried not to moan in pleasure. He followed another bite with a swig of some dark-brown beer and this time, the moan just slipped out.

"Oh, that's fantastic." Murphy looked longingly at the bottles of beer and Sam offered her his. "Just have a sip. None of us have seen a thing." She smiled gratefully and without even wiping the top took a rather large drink. Sam put his lips back on the bottle immediately after and could have sworn he tasted strawberries. He tried not to think about how her actual lips would taste, reminding himself that there seemed to be something between her and Dresden, but it didn't help.

They ate in silence and another bottle of the brown beer appeared by Sam's elbow just as Karrin was finishing the last sip from his first one. Dresden looked at him appraisingly again and Sam tried to look trustworthy. There was protectiveness in Dresden's eyes now and Sam hoped he passed this inspection. As they all finished up their steaks, crossing their knives and forks on their empty plates, they all leaned back in their chairs. The room had emptied quietly as they ate and when Sam glanced around again, he could see that now it was just them and Mac in the bar. Dresden didn't look unduly surprised. "Well, I guess it's time to talk. Tell me why you're looking for demons."

"Told you already. That's what we do. Not only demons, of course. Really any sort of monster that needs killing, we kill it."

"Such as, what?"

"We've sent quite a few ghosts into the light." Dean chuckled deeply. "Or the dark in most cases. We've fought zombies, a killer scarecrow, a djinn, a shapeshifter, and even an angel that had gone to the bad side. Like I said, just about anything."

"And you do this, why?"

"Let's just say it's a family business. It started when Sam here was a baby and my dad fought them for years."

Dresden didn't say anything for a minute. "I assume your dad's dead?"

"Yep. Demon got him."

"So that explains-"

"Not really. It all gets more complicated than just revenge."

"I'm listening."

Dean looked rather helplessly at Sam. It was obvious that he didn't quite know how to start. Sam decided it was best just to spit it out. "We sort of accidentally opened a hell mouth – all the increased demon activity around here is partly our fault. We're trying to do as much as we can to repair the damage."

With that announcement, Dresden didn't jump back or scream or hit them with his big staff. He just sort of stared at them. "You accidentally opened a rift into the NeverNever and summoned demons through it?"

"We didn't do any summoning – God, no! Someone else did all that stuff. We were trying to stop it. But, well, we didn't do a very good job obviously. And I don't know what the NeverNever is. Is it what you call Hell? Cause these demons came straight from there, let me tell you. I've talked to one or two of them and they are rather reluctant to go back, to put it mildly. They seem to be enjoying their holiday and are anxious to make it a permanent arrangement. Apparently, the weather here is a vast improvement over that at home."


	6. Crossroads and Crossed Purposes

A/N: First of all, thanks for your kind reviews. There seems to be a lot of interest in the story, but not too many reviews, so I appreciate every one. This chapter has some pretty intense spoilers for the end of season 2 of Supernatural. If you plan on watching it and want to keep the suspense, you may want to pass on this chapter. If that's the case, you can drop me a message to get the gist of the chapter without the spoilers. I promise the next chapter is spoiler-free, so don't give up on the story.

Also, this chapter works pretty hard at reconciling a major difference in the Dresden and Supernatural universes, so there's a lot of talking and not much action. I tried to keep the quick wit going on both sides of the conversation, but just a fair warning that this "joining" of their universes had to happen sooner or later and it's happening now. After this, we'll start to get to some more actual, you know, fighting.

**Crossroads and Crossed Purposes**

Sam laughed at Dean's description of what the demons said about returning to Hell, but Dresden looked slightly confused. Karrin was looking between the three of them like she was unsure whether to laugh or to call for help so she could haul them all to the loony bin.

"You summoned demons from Hell?" Dresden's words were slow, like he had to make sure that they understand what he said.

"I'll tell you again, Dresden. We. Did. Not. Summon. Them." Dean scowled. "They were summoned, but it wasn't by us. The hell mouth has been there for years, at least 100 or more, and someone else opened it. Then all these demons escaped. We tried to close the doors as quickly as we could, but a lot escaped before then."

"And then what?"

"What what?"

"What happened next?"

Dean threw up his hands in frustration. "Are we speaking a different language? We told you. We've been going around trying to kill off as many as we can, but they're tricky little buggers. We have to find where they went first, then track them down, then send them back to where they came from, preferably without killing the usually innocent people they managed to possess."

"Those aren't demons – at least not the way I define them. Not if they came from Hell. Demons come from the NeverNever and they really couldn't care less about what happens here with mortals. They only come when they're called and usually their first goal is to kill the wizard that called them."

Sam waved his hand. "I don't care about semantics. We can call them whatever you damn well want to."

"I understand that." Dresden gestured at Mac, who brought over another round of ale, including one for Karrin, who took it without protest. "I'm just telling you that I don't think the demons I'm hunting for are the same ones you are, because I'm looking for actual demons, like the ones I just described. You, on the other hand, are looking for what are typically called the Fallen. They're angels who took up with the wrong crowd a few millennia ago. They live in Hell and they don't want to stay there, that's for sure."

"So . . . you won't help us?" Dean hit the table hard enough with his fist that everyone's bottles tipped over and there was a mad scramble to right them and clean up the liquid that spilled.

Dresden mopped up his own beer with a handful of napkins. "I didn't say that. The fact that both our problems started at about the same time seems just a little too convenient, right?"

"You know, this little exchange is fascinating and all, but I really want to know what all of this has to do with the Department. Not that I'm not loving the food and the company, but so far I'm going to have a hard time justifying this on the clock." Karrin looked pointedly at Dresden and tapped the watch on her wrist.

"Easy," Dresden said. "All those murders that were done by magic, but to people who as far as we knew had absolutely no connection to magic or to each other . . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Well, now we know the magical connection. They were probably possessed by these Fallen that escaped. It seems likely that at least some of them would know black magic. And if they didn't know the right spells, they would certainly know how to find them. It's easy enough if you're looking."

Sam thought for a minute. "So then they summoned your demons? And then, as you say your demons are wont to do, they killed them?"

"Makes sense. If you even halfway know what you're doing when you summon a demon, you take safety measures before you call them. Either you summon them into a circle, which is what I usually do, or you place protection on yourself. But if these people were possessed, maybe the Fallen didn't care if they got killed or not so didn't bother to give them any helpful hints."

Dean spoke up, for once not looking skeptically at Dresden. "Maybe the killing was part of the plan. Would it be possible for them to possess a demon?"

Dresden shook his head. "I don't really think so. I mean, when you summon them, they either have to create a body – usually not a pretty sight – or you have to provide one for them to come to. If they create it, it only lasts for a short while." He cupped his chin in his hand and stared into space for a minute. "I'll think about it, though. I don't want to rule it out completely."

Karrin cleared her throat. "So, we've got about five of these killings on the books, right? That you're helping with? You think that's the reason they've all been killed?"

Dresden looked a little sheepish. "Well, truthfully, there've been a few more than that."

Karrin looked murderous. "Give me the bad news, Harry."

"Okay, well, you know. You were already so busy with the ones the police had found, I didn't want to-"

"How many?"

"About ten more, maybe. But these were a bit less innocent, shall we say. So, I'm not completely sure that it's the same COD." Dresden looked over at Sam and Dean. "You two had any experience with this sort of stuff, demons murdering people, I mean?"

"Hell, yes." Dean exclaimed.

"Too much." Sam said at the same moment. "But, we've both summoned one demon before. She, he, it, whatever, it didn't kill us." Dean whipped his head around and glared at Sam.

"Don't bring that up here."

Dresden was now looking at them with a bit more suspicion in his expression. "I thought you two didn't dabble in magic."

Dean growled in his throat and Sam wished he could take back the comment. He hadn't meant to make Dean upset with him. He didn't want to talk about that particular demon either, but it had seemed rather germane to the conversation. "This didn't involve any spells or anything. Just, uh, ah, hell. It was a crossroads demon. Ever encountered one of those before?"

"No. But I've heard of them. They're deal makers, right?"

Sam nodded briefly and felt Karrin's eyes on him. Dean was staring hard at his ale bottle, fiddling with a tear on the label.

"What sorts of deals? I mean, why would you want to deal with a demon?" Karrin met his eyes when Sam glanced over at her. Damn, she was cute. Sort of odd considering what she did for a living.

Dean spoke up at her question. "If you want something really badly, more than anything, you'll pretty much strike a bargain with anybody if they can give it to you."

"Not really a demon, either. Which explains why it didn't kill you." Dresden explained. No one responded, all lost in their own thoughts.

They all sat in silence for a moment before Karrin asked the inevitable question. "Did either of you, uh, make a deal?"

"Don't want to talk about it," both boys said at the same time. Sam looked up at her. "It doesn't have anything to do with this. I shouldn't have brought it up." He turned to Dresden. "I think we can help each other, though. It sounds like you are seriously overwhelmed with this and anyone that can help us banish a few of these demons, uh, Fallen, back to Hell is welcome to help as far as we're concerned. Whatd'ya say? Shall we pool our resources?"

Dresden looked between them for a minute. "What was the deal? I'm not going to work with someone who owes something to someone else. It could put me in a very sticky spot. I've got to keep my hands clean, relatively anyway."

"It doesn't have anything to do with this. Trust me."

"I don't. Don't take it personally. So, what was the deal?"

"Uh, I was . . ." Sam took a deep breath and glanced over at Dean, who was staring sullenly at the far wall. "Dean traded his life for mine. I was dead. He will be dead. Seven more months. Meanwhile, though, we don't owe anyone anything. So, do you want our help or not, because we've been doing pretty well on our own and if you don't-"

Dresden held up his hand. "Whoa. Let me get this straight. You-" he pointed at Sam, "were dead. And you-" he pointed at Dean "made a deal with the Fae-, uh, Crossroads Demon that he would come back to life and you would die?" Dean nodded stiffly.

"I'd do it again, too. If I had to."

"And when did _you_ talk to this demon?" Sam had to give the man credit. He was sharp. The fact that he had said they both had summoned the demon, but it would have had to been separate times, had not escaped him. Too bad, really, because he'd have rather not discussed it, to be honest.

"Um, later. I wanted to find out exactly what the terms were, so to speak."

"And the deal you made to learn that information?"

Dean looked askance at Sam, and he shifted a bit. "I didn't make a deal. It lost interest in the conversation before we got to that point." Dresden's eyes narrowed and he looked even more suspicious.

"Now, _that_ I don't believe. You don't discuss things with beings whose whole existence is focused on making deals without making one. I know that from personal experience. So, what was the deal you made for the information."

"There was no deal!" Sam glanced in frustration at Dean and briefly at Karrin. He really didn't want her thinking worse of him than she probably already did. "I cut the conversation short before we got to that point." He fisted his hands in his hair. "I killed it – I shot it and killed it and sent it back to Hell to tell its boss that I would not abide by the terms of the contract. And I seriously hope he got the message." He stood up, feeling extremely agitated despite his full stomach and the pleasant buzz from the beer. "It's obvious to me, Dresden, that you don't need or want our help, and believe me when I say we've got plenty of our own problems to deal with. Thank you for lunch. Dean, I'll be waiting in the car. Come out when you're ready." He stalked away from the table and didn't even turn around to check if Dean was following him.


	7. Let's Try That Again

**Let's Try That Again**

Sam stood outside for a couple of minutes because they hadn't had an opportunity to get the new key made for the Impala yet. But, hey, at least it wasn't raining. The door to the little pub opened and Sam was surprised that it wasn't Dean who emerged, but Karrin. He felt his heart rate pick up a bit of speed as she walked toward him. He tried not to over-analyze his reaction. She was a cute girl. Dean had been messing with everything in skirts for the last five months while all Sam could do was wait in the damn car. No reason to think he was desperate for company of the female kind. See, he told himself, no analysis needed.

"Hey."

Sam nodded in response, unsure what to say back to her.

"I, uh, wanted to come talk to you."

"D'ya draw the short straw or something?"

Karrin laughed and Sam couldn't help but smile in return. She had a nice laugh, not giggly or stupid, but pleasant and soft. "No. I volunteered."

"I sort of blew it back there." He nodded toward the door of the pub.

"I don't know about that. It seems like it was sort of a sore subject and Harry wouldn't let it drop, so I don't really blame you for being upset." She stepped closer to him and then leaned against the car next to him.

Sam was tempted to shift a bit away from her. Or nearer maybe. But he stayed where he was, nervous about making her self-conscious. "What is it with you two?"

"Hmm?" She was relaxed, looking toward the door of Mac's but not really like she expected anyone else to be coming out soon.

"You and Dresden. Do you date or something?"

She whipped her head around so fast that Sam was surprised she didn't hurt herself. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know, just . . . well, I don't know." He wasn't sure how to tell her that Dresden was really protective of her and obviously liked her in a more-than-friends-type of way. If she didn't know it, he didn't want to enlighten her on the subject. Not at the moment anyway.

"Harry and I work together. That's it."

"Sorry. I just thought . . . well, never mind."

"Harry's used to working pretty much alone. He gets a lot of crap from people, but he takes it, because he knows he's the only one that can do some of this stuff, being a wizard and all. I think you and Dean there threw him for a loop."

"We offered to help him, that's all. Thought he might be able to help us." Sam tried hard to keep the bitter edge of his voice but he wasn't exactly sure he had succeeded. Both he and Dean had acknowledged the fact (not out loud of course) that there was nothing in the 'Hunter's Handbook of Tricks" that would get Dean released from his contract. They had decided to do their best to get rid of these escapees from hell and hope that somehow something would come along that would help. Sam had thought maybe Ruby would be able to and still held out hope for that; but Dean had told him not to be too disappointed if it didn't pan out. This Dresden character, though, he seemed to know what he was doing around demons, both his kind and the kind he and Dean fought all the time. Sam had allowed that small flicker of hope to flame into life and now it was being doused again. That made him madder than anything.

"I do think the three of you could get a lot done together." She shifted and Sam felt her arm brush his.

"Look, Sam, the fact of the matter is that we are seriously overwhelmed here. Harry's dead on his feet. He's been fighting these things for months now and doing magic exhausts him. I'm surprised he isn't curled up under the table there at Mac's, sucking his thumb and hoping that nothing else comes along. He may not want to admit it, but he really does need help."

"If he won't let us-"

"Innocent people are dying, Sam. I know you hate that idea."

"Yeah. Innocent people are always dying, though, Karrin. I 'm not sure we could make much of a difference."

She acknowledged his comment with a nod of understanding. "Come back inside, at least. You don't need to decide right this minute. But Harry and Dean are starting to talk about how this could work."

"Really? Dean's talking to Dresden in a reasonable way? No threats or slightly veiled insults?"

"They were talking when I came out here. About stuff. No threats."

Sam shifted against the car a bit and their arms brushed again.

"How old are you, Sam?"

"Almost 25." Sam gulped, wondering if she wanted to know for the same reason he wanted her to know.

"You're just a baby." This was said in a lightly teasing way, though, not like a dismissal and Sam gulped again.

"Not really. I've seen a lot of stuff. If that matters."

"Sometimes it does." They were both quiet for a minute. "I've seen plenty of stuff with Dresden. He does some scary crap."

"Yeah. I bet. He shouldn't have you around when he's fighting demons."

She laughed again, low and soft and Sam felt it in his gut. "Don't get all protective on me, Sam. I can hold my own in a fight. He's taught me some stuff. I can do some stuff, too. I may be small, but I'm mean."

Sam turned against the car so he was looking down at her. "I don't think you could ever-"

Her eyes were sparkling when she turned against the car to face him. "Trust me."

"'Kay. I do."

She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and leaned forward. Sam felt her lips brush his lower jaw and he started in surprise. He moved his head slightly and caught the edge of her mouth with his. Oh. She moved again and Sam slid his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head to hold her still. Oh. Her mouth did taste like strawberries. Sam took one step closer to her and slid his other arm around her waist. It had been a long time since he'd kissed someone and it felt incredibly good. Her hands came up to his chest and Sam let her go. They looked at each other for a minute and then Karrin pushed away from him. "Probably shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?"

"Multiple reasons. If we wind up working together on this whole demon mess, you really shouldn't be distracted by me. That's one. There are others."

"So, if I promise to throw you out to the demon first, can I kiss you again?"

"I kissed you."

Sam shook his head. "I think it was mutually agreed that kissing each other would be nice."

"Mutually agreed?"

"Mmm, yeah. Mutually. So, that promise?"

"Could work." She looked up at him, blue eyes sparkling, and Sam didn't even try to resist the invitation in her gaze. He slid his hand into her hair again, marveling at how soft it was and how small she was. His hand could cup the back of her whole head. He bent down this time to her level and kissed her gently, unsure exactly how far he could push things. She wrapped both arms around his neck and opened her mouth under his. Sam leaned against the car, pulling her against him. It felt fantastic and he didn't want to stop any time soon. After a minute, though, he lifted his head.

"Kissing you is definitely a distraction."

Karrin's arms slid down from around his neck and she stepped away from him. "I-"

"However," Sam's finger brushed across her lips. "I'm willing to deal with it if you are. And we don't need to tell them, at least not yet."

"Harry'll know. I'll probably get some lecture about corrupting minors or something later."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Does he read minds?"

"No, no. He's just incredibly observant and pretty smart." Her hand reached up and brushed his lips. "My lip gloss is gone for good now and your lips look a bit more pink than they did before."

"I've got lip gloss on me?" Sam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Karrin slapped his arm.

"You weren't complaining earlier."

"No. So, uh, if we go back in there and start planning some strategy to get these crap-head sons of bitches, do I get a reward?"

"Maybe. It depends if you come up with any great ideas. I'll keep track and pay you later."

"Can I trust you?"

"I think so. After all, paying your reward is nice for me, too. In fact, I may accidentally give you credit for some of Dean's ideas."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Or bad ideas. Those, too."

"Mmm." And then they were kissing again and Sam held on to her tightly for a few minutes. She was small, but curvy, and he found that she fit very nicely against him. He set her down again. "That doesn't count as part of my reward, does it?"

Karrin pushed away from him and took his hand. "No. Just incentive. You've got to think about lots of really fantastic ideas." They walked back toward the pub again. "Harry won't want to talk much longer here, I don't think. It's secure and all, but he likes to do most of his heavy work back at his apartment. He's got reference material there, I think. He usually comes up with most of his ideas down in what he calls 'the lab.' But, come on in. We'll let him decide."

Sam decided not to over-analyze why holding hands with her felt so unbelievably good, either. Sometimes it was best just to let things happen. Sometimes, there were pleasant surprises.


	8. Discovery

Okay, apparently the kissing chapter was not popular last time! See if I ever do that again. No, seriously, sorry for the change in pace. This one is back more to the core of the story, so hopefully it will be more to all of your tastes. The boys learn a bit more about Harry this time. By the way, this chapter contains a few minor spoilers for the last televised Supernatural episode (3:12 Jus in Bello). I don't think there'll be anything that would spoil the episode, but just be forewarned.

**Discovery**

Karrin dropped his hand once they reached the door of the pub, and much as Sam missed the contact, he knew it was probably better that way. Dean and Dresden were standing up at the table and Dresden was settling the bill.

"Ah, Sammy. Feeling better?" Dean smiled at him and winked and Sam wondered if he suspected anything had happened with Karrin. Probably not, but then Dean sometimes surprised him, even now.

"A bit. Sorry I sort of lost it." This was said more to Dresden than to Dean. As brothers, they were sort of used to forgiving each other for little outbursts of temper here and there. When you were together almost constantly for day after day, it just wasn't physically possible to avoid getting on each others' nerves once in a while.

"Don't mention it. Your brother and I were thinking of heading back to my place. I need to look a few things up."

"Works for me."

"Fun as that sounds, Harry, I think I better head back to the station. Got some things to take care of this afternoon." Karrin smiled at Sam. "But I'm sure we'll touch bases again later tonight or maybe tomorrow. And Harry, I want the information on those other murders that are tied in with these demon/angel things."

"Fine." Dresden agreed, but he looked a bit grumpy at the idea. Sam thought it was funny how Murphy seemed to keep him in line. He couldn't help but think that this was more because the wizard really liked her than because of any deference to her badge or her supposed "meanness."

Karrin drove away in her cruiser and Dresden folded himself into his wreck of a vehicle. Sam and Dean sat down in the Impala and waited for Dresden to lead the way to his, what had Karrin called it?, his lab. Sam wasn't quite sure what to say once they were alone. He wanted to tell Dean about kissing Karrin, but didn't think Dean would take it very well. Then he decided he would try to apologize for bringing up the whole Crossroads Demon thing, but he truthfully didn't feel bad about it. They had been at least mostly truthful with Dresden and it seemed that he might actually be capable of offering them something in return for that honesty. The multicolored Beetle chugged out of the parking lot before Sam actually had time to tell Dean anything. "So, what're we doing with Dresden?"

"He's trying to figure out what these fallen angel sons-of-bitches want with real demons from his Neverland place. Says that as far as he knows, they can only possess humans."

"Guess that makes sense, since we've never seen anything else possessed."

"That's what I told him. He seems pretty decent, really. I don't know if he really does magic or anything, but he seems to know what he's doing in the monster-hunting department, anyway."

"I, uh, I'm sorry about the whole-"

"Don't worry about it, Sam. It was bound to come out one way or the other."

"Did you mention about, uh, my supposed job?"

"No, figured that was probably best left up to you to explain."

"And Lilith?"

"Hell, no! I don't even like to mention her name!"

"Okay, well, don't you think it's fair we warn him? She's not messing around. She's killed quite a few people while she's hunting for us."

"I know, but we haven't heard from the wench in more than two months – maybe she's given up."

"Right. Those sorts of creatures give up pretty easily."

"Shut up, Sam."

Sam did shut up, but only because they were pulling up in front of a large home that looked like it had been built in the 1920s. It had what some might call elegant bones, but Sam just thought it looked run down. "I thought he lived in an apartment-type place?"

"Me, too."

Dresden approached Dean's window. "What do you think of it?"

Dean opened the door and stepped out. "It's, uh, bigger than we expected."

"See, I told you that I could easily afford a new car."

"Yeah, I guess." Sam got out of the car as well and they both looked at the house. Sam didn't know what he had expected, but this was definitely way out of their league.

"Come on, I really just live down in the basement. The whole thing's apartments now." Dresden led them down a set of stairs to a metal door that looked like it had seen seriously better days. He looked a little askance at them. "I've warded the place, of course. I, uh, well, would you mind coming in without being invited?"

"What?"

"Well, I don't know that much about you, you know. Not really."

"Whatever." Dean stepped forward. "Should we go first?"

"No. I'll go in first. Just follow after me, okay?" He said something and then pushed very hard on the metal door, which seemed to shudder in its frame before grudgingly moving a few inches inward.

Sam shrugged and so did Dean but they did as he asked. Sam felt a push against him as he passed over the threshold and he almost stepped back but Dean was behind him so he kept going. Dean looked nervous as he stepped into the room, too, so Sam knew it hadn't been a figment of his imagination. The room was tidy and the furniture looked very comfortable, like you could throw yourself into it and relax completely. There were plenty of thick rugs on the floor and the whole place had a welcoming air of a little sanctuary away from the outside chaos. He had to admit it surprised him. "This is nice." Dean tried to shut the door behind him, but couldn't budge it. He made a strange face at Sam.

"Thanks. It's a bit more home now and –" He was cut off by a very large dog who ran in from what Sam assumed was the bedroom and butted against Dresden. "Oh, this is Mouse. I hope you don't mind dogs."

"Mouse?" Sam thought nothing he had ever seen looked less like a mouse. The dog was absolutely huge. He was gray, but that seemed to be the only mouse-like thing about him.

"He was small when I got him. And quiet. So it sort of fit." Dresden looked around. "Mister's around here somewhere, too. Or maybe he's out. Anyway he's sort of a cat."

"Sort of?" Dean was tentatively holding out his hand for the huge dog to sniff. Neither of them were particularly comfortable around animals and Sam figured that was because they had never had a chance to have a pet. He hoped neither of them were allergic. Dresden moved behind them and pushed his shoulder against the door to close it.

"Yeah. I think he's part mountain lion, too. You'll see what I mean if you meet him." Dresden waved vaguely at the sofa. "Go ahead and sit down. Do either of you want anything to drink? I think I've got Coke." When neither of them said anything, he reached over to the coat rack and pulled down a rather ratty-looking plaid flannel robe. "Okay, I'm going to head downstairs for a few minutes. I want to look a few things up in my lab. I'll hurry." He pulled up a trapdoor that Sam hadn't even noticed before and stepped down, closing it behind him.

After he had disappeared, Sam and Dean looked at each other. "He's quite peculiar." Mouse had taken to Dean and was currently slobbering on his knee. Dean was trying to pet him naturally, but it wasn't working very well and Mouse kept pushing his head further into his lap to get the petting started again.

"No kidding, Sam. No kidding. And what was with the whole coming in uninvited thing?"

"Don't know for sure. I think some things have to be invited in, like vampires, but I don't see what that has to do with us."

"Didn't that Murphy say something about us being vampires?"

"Well, yeah, but he didn't invite us in, so if we were vampires, I don't think we could have come in."

"Maybe it was a test."

"Maybe." Sam shrugged again and stood up, maneuvering around the quivering back half of Mouse, who was licking Dean's arm now, frantically, and Dean was scratching his enormous head hoping to calm him down. He strode over to the bookcase, looking at the titles arranged on the shelves. There seemed to be a wide variety of books, some on the occult, which he fully expected, but there were also some classics. Sam didn't want to think about Karrin, afraid that Dean would see something in his face that would make him ask questions.

"Hey, Sam, I think I will have that Coke after all."

"Okay, I guess he won't mind. I'll get it since you're . . . occupied." He laughed. "That dog is more into you than most of your girlfriends."

"Oh, shut up, Sam."

Sam looked around the small kitchenette. It was rather old-fashioned but very clean. The man was a lot neater than Sam would have expected for a single guy. Of course, maybe he could just twitch his nose and clean like Samantha on Bewitched. He laughed at his own silly ideas and opened the refrigerator. Except, it wasn't a refrigerator. It was an ice box, an actual ice box. He grabbed a Coke out of the almost-empty space and headed back into the main room where Mouse, now apparently content with Dean's half-hearted petting had climbed up onto the spot where Sam had been sitting, his huge head still resting in Dean's lap. "Here you go. He has an ice box, like an old-fashioned thing."

"Really? Wow, that's kind of bizarre."

"Yeah. And in fact, look around. He's got oil lamps, a coal stove, candles. I don't think he has electricity down here."

"There're plugs." Dean pointed at a stretch of wall where one outlet peeked defiantly from behind the coat-rack.

"But nothing's plugged in."

"Maybe he doesn't keep up with the bill."

"Maybe. Still bizarre, though." Sam sat down on one of the chairs facing the couch. "You have a friend for life in that beast."

"Seems like it. Maybe he could like you for a while?" Dean looked hopefully at Sam but Sam shook his head.

"Wouldn't want to stand in the way of true love."

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes and then there was suddenly a heavy pounding on the door. Both of them jumped up and Mouse looked unhappy at the loss of his new best friend and pillow. "Who could that be?"

"Dresden! Open this door!" The voice was familiar and Sam felt an odd combination of anticipation and nerves, because Karrin Murphy did not sound happy.

"I think it's Karrin."

"Yeah, do you think we should let her in?" She was still pounding frantically and yelling even louder. "Why don't you call down at him and see? I don't want to take any chances. Remember he said the place was warded."

Sam crossed to the trapdoor and lifted it up. He had no idea how far down Dresden was so he decided he'd better yell. "Uh, Dresden?! Karrin's here and she's not happy! Should we let her in?!" There was a rather strange odor coming from down there, mostly dampness, Sam supposed, although he may have been cooking some sort of strange thing, too. It was also pretty dark. There seemed to be some light way down there, flickering like candlelight.

"Sure. Just pull hard on the door. You may have noticed it's difficult. I'll come up in a minute. I'm almost finished." He didn't sound that far away and Sam was a bit embarrassed at how loud he'd been.

It took both of them some serious effort to open the door and Mouse was trying to help which made Sam laugh, so he couldn't pull very hard, but they finally got it open. Karrin was pushing hard from the other side and once she could squeeze her way through the gap, she scowled hard at the two of them, pushing with just as much force against Sam's chest with both hands, forcing him back into the room. "You're supposed to be dead! Both of you! And if you're not dead – then you should be under arrest! You were both wanted by the FBI before you were killed! Who are you really, and what do you want with Harry? And before you answer, remember that I've got a gun! And it's hard to get in trouble for murdering a dead man!"


	9. Soulgaze

I want to apologize for the extremely long delay since my last post. You can blame Easter and then the IRS for my lack of good Sunday writing time. Finally, in sheer desperation, I've pulled an all nighter. Hopefully, the caffeine did its job and this installment makes sense. If not, I claim the right to edit it in the future. There should not be another delay of this length again. I hope.

**Soulgaze**

Sam grabbed both her hands in one of his to keep her from pushing him any more. "There's a reasonable explanation for that, Karrin."

"Well, we'll see about reasonable!" which made no sense to Sam, but at least she had stopped hitting him and she looked a little calmer. He let her hands go and she didn't start hitting him again, so Sam took that as a good sign. "Where's Harry?"

"Downstairs, in his lab." Dean sat back down on the couch eyeing Karrin's gun warily. Mouse seemed to have lost interest in him now. He was sniffing Karrin half-heartedly and when she didn't respond, he curled up in a corner by the fireplace.

"So. Start talking." She could have been talking to either of them, but she was looking right at Sam, so he cleared his throat, trying to decide exactly how much he should tell her.

"What's going on?" Dresden was emerging from the basement, still in the ratty plaid bathrobe, looking curiously at the little tableau arranged in his living room.

"I'll tell you what's going on, Harry – these two are impostors! The real Sam and Dean Winchester are dead! And if they weren't dead, then they'd be under arrest for murder and a host of other charges-"

Dean interrupted her. "Look, Murphy, if we were impostors like you say, how stupid would we have to be to claim to be two guys wanted by the FBI?! We're not dead, obviously, and we never claimed to be dead!"

"The building just blew up and because we had been in it before-"

"Because you were on the Most Wanted Lists all over the country!"

"Right. Because of that, we were arrested and in jail. But the FBI agent, Henriksen was his name, he came and he actually believed us."

"He was possessed, see," Dean chimed in, "and we exorcised that demon and so he had no choice but to believe us-"

"So, he let us out and" Sam paused for a moment, unsure how much detail he wanted to go into about that evening's activities. They hadn't all been noble, in any case, "let us go. And then later we heard about the explosion and I guess things got mixed up."

"And since being dead is actually fairly useful, we haven't exactly rushed to correct the error." Dean tried to smile winningly at Karrin, who narrowed her eyes at him.

"But what about all the murder charges and everything?"

"All misunderstandings. We've never hurt anybody intentionally ever – well, unless they seriously needed killing. And as for all the complaints about desecrating graves and everything, those were just to make us sound like devil worshippers and sickos. Salting and burning the corpse is the only way to get rid of some of these nasty ghost things. It's not like it's fun for us." Dean folded his arms as if that settled the matter.

"Well, maybe not, but-"

"Murph, I've got some ideas on this whole demon connection, but I want to go check out some of the bodies and I want to get there ASAP. Maybe we could hold off on the interrogation until later?"

"No. I won't. I could get in a lot of trouble for running around the city with two known felons. And I'm not going back to my office and pretending that I never saw them either."

Sam felt sort of bad for Karrin at that point. She must constantly feel like she was being pulled in two different directions because of her obvious friendship with Dresden and the questions that must always come up at the police department. But then on the other hand, she knew him well enough that she seemed willing to believe that Dresden was innocent even when the evidence made him look guilty. He opened his mouth to say something but then Dresden spoke up. "Mouse likes them, that should count for something, right?"

Karrin looked over at the big dog, but her face didn't relax. "Yeah. Mouse is pretty trustworthy, but I really need more evidence than that." She pulled Dresden into the kitchen and there was some fast muttering and complaining that Sam couldn't hear or understand.

Sam thought for a couple minutes about they could even start to explain the various charges that were filed against them, or had been before they were supposedly killed, and could probably be easily re-filed when it was discovered they were actually still alive and kicking. The list was fairly lengthy and there was a lot of bad stuff they'd done besides that known by the FBI. Could you say credit card fraud? Not to mention the sizable arsenal of weapons they drove around with in their trunk, most of which were completely illegal to own, even if they were usually only loaded with rock salt. Dresden emerged from the kitchen with Karrin a couple steps behind. He looked sulky and not very happy, while she actually looked happier than she had since she pushed her way into the apartment.

"Have either of you boys ever heard of soulgazing?" At their negative responses, Dresden continued. "Didn't think so. You met my eyes a little too easily over lunch." He cleared his throat. "As a wizard, I can do it, but I should probably warn you that while I'm looking into your soul, you'll also be looking into mine. Murph's done it. Said it was quite, uh, interesting."

"Wait, wait, wait. You want to look into our _souls_?"

"Yeah. It's painless enough for you, although I've seen some things I'd rather I hadn't over the years. Basically, I'll be able to see your true inner selves, your actual, well, soul – Can't really think of a better word. If you're basically decent people, then I can tell, pass that on to Murphy, and she can stop thinking you're trying to weasel your way into my house so you can steal all my valuable worldly goods." He laughed deprecatingly. "If you're not, however, Murphy will probably just kill you. So, uh, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I don't like the idea of anyone seeing down into my soul." Dean shook his head. "That's not good."

"Oh, come on, Dean. You haven't got anything to hide." Sam was intrigued with the idea, really, although he felt a bit of a nervous hitch in his stomach at the idea that everything he truly was would be exposed to this man. He knew, though, that Dresden was a good guy. A little bizarre, but good. He liked to think of himself as good, too, although the fact that the demons were starting to consider him their leader-king made him a bit queasy. He hoped that part didn't show up on his soul. That would be even harder to explain to Karrin than the fact that the rumors of their deaths had been greatly exaggerated.

Dean looked at Sam. "Are you kidding? You're a choir-boy compared to me."

"I don't care about what you have or haven't done. I'm not trying to judge your worthiness to enter heaven or anything. It's more your motivations for doing things. What you're capable of doing. What you wouldn't ever do."

"I'll go first, I guess." Sam took a deep breath. "What do I need to do?"

"Just stand there." Dresden stared closely at him and Sam met his eyes. He wasn't sure exactly what would happen, had no idea what to expect. Dresden's eyes were a dark brown, with flecks of green in them, almost like his dad's had been. Suddenly, as though a switch had been flicked, he wasn't looking 'at' Dresden's eyes anymore, but 'into' them. Like he could see behind them. But he didn't see like, you know, his brain or anything. Instead, it was like looking into a room from a doorway. The room was cluttered with piles of stuff and boxes and vials and containers, all of them labeled but Sam couldn't read any of the labels. He stepped inside the room, to get a little closer to the first box but the label was in Latin, and although Sam knew quite a few words in Latin because of his stent at law school, he didn't recognize the word. Spilling out of this box, though, was a gray cloak, stained with what looked like blood and Sam turned away. Whatever was there, he didn't want to see any more of it. He saw names on a lot of the containers and those seemed to be vibrating slightly with music and Sam wanted to pick them up, but when he stretched out his hand, he couldn't touch them. He saw Karrin's name on a big box and he really wanted to lift the lid and look inside that, but just as he reached toward it, he blinked and he was looking at Dresden's brown eyes again. Dresden nodded slightly, his eyes narrowing minutely. He looked at Sam as though expecting a reaction, but Sam had no idea what to say. What do you say to someone when you just saw their soul? _Thanks, that was loads of fun?_ Somehow, he didn't think that would be appropriate.

"Uh, so, did you see what you needed to?" Sam wasn't sure that was appropriate to say to someone who just saw inside _your_ soul either, but it was all he could think of at the moment.

"Yes. You all right?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't I be?"

"Well, yeah. I suppose."

"It is over already?" Dean looked between the two of them. "You aren't going to hug or anything, are you?"

Dresden shook his head. "No hugging's necessary, Dean."

"Sammy must have an empty head. That was over pretty quickly."

Dresden chuckled softly. "Not empty, no. Quite full, actually." He smiled and stepped closer to Dean. Sam could tell his brother was nervous because Dean laughed what Sam thought of as his _I'm-nervous-but I-don't-want-to-admit-it_ laugh

"I hope I don't have onion breath or anything."

"I'm not going to kiss you, Dean. Just relax." Dresden stepped a bit closer and grabbed Dean's shoulders. It seemed like only a second to Sam and then Dresden stepped away. "You all right?"

Dean looked somewhat pale and he grabbed for the chair behind him and sat down. "That is some seriously f'd-up stuff." He put his head down into his hands. "Don't ever do that to me again, Dresden."

"Can't. One time only." He took a deep breath while Sam looked between the two of them. What the hell had Dean seen in Dresden's mind? Maybe he'd looked in the box with the bloody cloak? He'd have to ask later. He was curious what Dresden had seen in Dean's mind, though. And his own. And he wondered if he'd ever have the guts to ask.

Dresden wiped his forehead. "They're a bit nuts, these two." He said this with a smile, though, and Sam wasn't offended. "But they're good people, both of them, and they're for the most part exactly who and what they claim to be." He glanced at Sam again, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "We can trust them." Then he smiled and Sam could tell it was a bit forced. "And let me tell you, if there's a fight, make sure you're on their side of the argument." He stood up. "So, now that the important business of the day is concluded, boys, what do you say about heading out to see some people who have died some rather nasty deaths?"

"Are you going to see the ones you've not bothered to report to the police?" Karrin looked considerably more relaxed now that she had gotten official word that they weren't serial-wizard-killers.

"I think we'll do that tomorrow. We have just enough time this afternoon to get to the five official ones – they're all still at the morgue, right Murph?" Murphy nodded in response. "Then we should be able to see them all before nightfall there, even allowing for traffic."

"What happens at nightfall?" Sam asked, a bit surprised at this last comment.

"That's when all the beasties come out to play, and I don't think any of us are ready to take this demon on at the moment."


End file.
